Sovereign Rising (The Gods' Game, Volume III): A LitRPG novel

by Rohan M Vider

  Eventually, he sat up and opened his eyes. Once he blinked them clear, he looked around. Gaesin and Mirien were both awake and speaking softly at the edge of the camp. Gaesin wasn’t wasting any time, he saw.

  At the back of his mind, he felt Aiken, a gently rumbling and reluctantly awakening presence. He ruffled the bear’s coat fondly. He still worried about how the bear would adjust to life above ground. He hoped the sun’s light would not prove to be too much of a shock to him.

  A Game message blinked for attention in his mind, and he opened it.

  Gaesin Illineiros has chosen the path of a hydromancer.

  Gaesin Illineiros is now an apprentice-ranked hydromancer.

  Good, he thought. At least one of the party was now classed. Adra should follow soon after, once she awoke. Bending over her sleeping form, he checked on how the wolven was doing.

  Adra’s healing was progressing as quickly as could be expected. She should awake sometime tomorrow. He had until then to decide the party’s course, he knew. Once Adra was recovered, the party would have many days of hard travel ahead of them.

  He looked up to find Gaesin and Mirien walking over to him. “Morning,” he greeted.

  “Morning, Kyran,” replied Gaesin. “Ready for breakfast?”

  Kyran nodded and glanced towards the whiesper. She was staring at him again. He had not reached a decision last night about which direction the party should travel or their eventual destination. He had reluctantly concluded that he needed more information. Much would depend on what the elf had to say today. Let’s hear her out first.

  Rising to his feet, he joined the other two at the campfire.

  ✽✽✽

  Mirien chewed meditatively over the travel rations Gaesin handed her, doing her best to curb her hunger and not ravenously swallow her allotted portion. Kyran’s party, it seemed, had an ample stock of rations.

  Despite the plenitude, the free agent had chosen to carefully ration their stock. And as hungry as Mirien was, she could not find fault with that. Who knew when they would find food again? He is cautious, she thought with grudging respect.

  Much about the free agent was still a mystery to Mirien. This despite Gaesin being more forthcoming this morning. She ached to know how Adra and Gaesin had gotten into the labyrinth, how Kyran had found and bound them as vassals, where the party had found Aiken, and how they had defeated Lesh. Gaesin had sidestepped all her questions on those matters. He had grown wary after his slip last night.

  Yet he had revealed some information about the party. She knew that Gaesin respected and revered Kyran, that Kyran had saved him and Adra from some unspeakable horror, and that the party had fought numerous battles with feral kobolds. She wrinkled her nose and looked down at the ration in her hand. It was a kobold ration. Not the most appetizing of foods, but edible.

  Her gaze shifted to the jade bear. He was chomping through his own stock of rations and looking up every so often at the burning ball that was the sun. It clearly made him uncomfortable. She still could not believe that the bear and Kyran were bonded. Few great bears ever chose to bond outside their species. What drew Aiken to Kyran? she wondered. Whatever it was, their bond was evidently a strong one if the bear willingly braved the world above for his companion.

  Mirien had spent the entirety of her watch last night assessing and rebuilding the psi shields around her consciousness. It had taken her a while, but she had finally figured out how Aiken had slipped into her mind. The gap had been plugged—hopefully.

  As much as she admired and respected great bears, she could not have one trampling through her mind. She had too many secrets to protect.

  “We need to decide how we will proceed today,” said Kyran.

  Mirien looked up. The wood-elf was done with his breakfast and was looking at her and Gaesin. Mirien swallowed the last of her own meal and studied the free agent surreptitiously while she thought through her response.

  He was dressed differently this morning. Gone was the black, scarred, and battered chitin armour. Today, he was dressed in expensive, gleaming mithril scale armour. His long strands of green hair had been pulled back and tied neatly beneath the open helm. Like the sword he bore, the armour was a priceless artefact. Without a doubt enchanted and, if she had to guess, dwarven-forged.

  If he had been wearing the armour yesterday, she would never have mistaken him for a scout. Where had he gotten the items? She didn’t bother asking. She knew he would ignore the question.

  “We should head east, towards Balkar’s commonwealth,” she said.

  “And this is where your Brotherhood is?” asked Kyran.

  “We are everywhere in the domains, but from Balkar’s realm, it will be easier for us to reach the council.”

  “The council?”

  “The committee that rules the Brotherhood. It is to them that we must take you first.”

  Kyran nodded noncommittedly. “And how do you propose we reach Balkar’s realm?”

  He had not, she noticed, promised to join the Brotherhood, or even to meet with them. He would need more convincing, she realised, but at least he was listening.

  “We should descend into the southern foothills and travel east along the mountain range until we get to Springhill, a border town on the edge of Balkar’s domain,” she said. “If we set out immediately and travel hard, we should be able to get there in a few weeks.”

  Kyran raised one brow questioningly. “You would have us travel through Xetil’s domain? And not cross back into Crotana?”

  Mirien grimaced. “I know it is not ideal. But if we stay in the foothills, we should be able to avoid any of the settlements in Xetil’s demesne and make most of the journey unchallenged.”

  Gaesin frowned. “But why not cross back into Crotana and make the journey through it instead? Surely it would be safer.”

  Mirien glanced at Kyran. His face was unreadable as he waited for her response. She turned to Gaesin and shook her head. “I am not sure it will be safer. The Elder Forest is overrun, and despite its terrain being easier to navigate, journeying through the forest will be more dangerous than travelling through the mountain foothills.” She looked over the party. “Unless the stealth capabilities of your party are much better than I suspect, we will not be able to disguise our presence in the forest. We will be forced to fight every step of the way through.”

  And, she added to herself, after the free agent’s strange reaction to the mention of Iyra yesterday, I don’t want him anywhere near her paladins.

  “Then why not travel along the northern foothills, on the Crotana side of the Skarral range,” persisted Gaesin. He gestured westwards to the path running north through the mountains. “We could cross over easily if we used the mountain pass.”

  Mirien shook her head. “The pass is infested with gargoyles, in numbers too great for us to handle.” She held up a hand. “And before you ask, there is no other navigable route north that is suited to your party. I myself only managed to cross over the mountain by using my teleportation abilities.”

  Gaesin seemed ready to argue further. She spoke quickly before he could interrupt again. “Travelling the southern foothills is safe,” she insisted. “With Crotana being unclaimed for so long, Xetil’s forces are sparse this far north. As long as we are careful, we should have no trouble avoiding his hordes.”

  “And what if Xetil knows where we are?” asked Kyran softly.

  Mirien stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  Kyran shrugged. “We killed Lesh in the dwarven city. Shortly thereafter, we escaped the labyrinth. It would not take much for Xetil to put those facts together and arrive at the conclusion that we are somewhere in the southern Skarral range. He might even have already figured out that we surfaced through the south gate.”

  Mirien’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I can see why Xetil would know of his champion’s fate. But how would he know you escaped the labyrinth. The only way the goblin-god could know that was if—” She stopped short. “You ha
d a quest to escape the labyrinth, didn’t you?”

  Kyran nodded.

  Mirien exhaled sharply. “So not only Xetil, but all the gods know of your escape.” She shot to her feet and glanced nervously at the sky. “Idiot!” she ground out. She didn’t care if she offended him anymore. How could he be so stupid? “Why didn’t you say so earlier? We wasted the entire night here when we should have been running. The gods are probably scrying this location right now!”

  Kyran smiled. He actually smiled. Infuriated beyond words, Mirien glared at him.

  “Calm down,” said Kyran. “I share your concerns, but while it would be unfortunate if the gods know our location already, camping here last night couldn’t be helped.”

  “Unfortunate?!” She stared at him in disbelief before latching onto the second part of what he had said. “Couldn’t be helped?! Why?” she demanded.

  “Let me ask you a question first. Is there any way to hide from the gods’ scrying?”

  She didn’t want to humour him further. She wanted to flee. But she needed the damn free agent to flee with her. Clenching her jaw tightly against her anger, she breathed in deeply before answering. “There are spells that can block the gods’ sight. However, I cannot cast any of them.”

  Kyran nodded thoughtfully. “So, given that we cannot hide ourselves from the gods, what use would running be? They would find us eventually.”

  Mirien shook her head. “The gods are not omnipotent, at least not on Myelad. The Game restricts them. Unless the gods have a record of a mortal’s divine signature, they cannot track one down easily. Their scrying, like the rest of their power, is limited. If we had fled the immediate area of their attention, we could have escaped the divines’ notice.” She sighed unhappily, her anger fading. “Why didn’t you tell me? If we had run immediately, we would have stood a good chance of remaining hidden.”

  Kyran lowered his eyes. Was he ashamed? Looking up, he met her gaze. “I’m sorry, I should have told you and given you the opportunity to flee. But for the rest of our party, we had no choice. We could not have gone on any further last night. We were on our last legs, as it were.”

  Mirien nodded, grudgingly seeing the sense of what he said.

  Kyran fell silent again, thinking on her words. “You are sure that the gods are restricted in the manner you described?” he asked eventually.

  “Yes,” said Mirien. “It was a matter that concerned the Brotherhood greatly in our early days. The theory has been put to the test and proven countless times. If the gods were all-seeing, then the Brotherhood would have been wiped out ages ago.”

  Kyran nodded slowly. “Thank you, Mirien.” He waved her back to her seat. “Sit, please, and at least let me explain my reasoning more fully.”

  Reluctantly, she retook her seat. She still wanted to leave the area. Their party was rested now. There was no reason for further delay, but she would hear him out.

  “I know you still feel we should flee immediately, but we can’t do that just yet.” He gestured to the injured wolven. “Adra is in no condition to travel and here, next to the south gate, is the safest place for our party to rest.”

  Mirien frowned at him. “I am not sure I follow you.”

  “I do not want to go back into the labyrinth,” Kyran said. “The kobolds still run rampant in the city, and hiding from them again will be difficult.” He sighed. “But if a divine force shows up before Adra recovers, then we will retreat back into Crotana’s subterranean world.”

  Mirien tilted her head to the side and stared at him in fascination. “You can open the south gate again?”

  “I can,” he replied. “I can also seal it shut so none of the divines can follow, at least not with a considerable investment of force.”

  “You are certain of this?” asked Mirien, leaning forward intently.

  “I am.”

  “How do you control the gate? That should not be possible.”

  Kyran waved off her question. “You don’t need to know that,” he said gently. “Perhaps in time, when there is more trust between us.”

  Mirien leaned back, disappointed. Abandoning the subject of the gate, she turned over the rest of his words. “And if the gods have caught our scent already? What then?” she asked quietly.

  “If they have, they have,” said Kyran with a shrug. “Somehow, we’ll have to figure out a way to lose our divine trackers. Your information on the gods’ limits gives me hope that shielding the party from divine sight is possible. Only finding the means to do so remains. But with all this in mind, I hope you realise that travelling through Xetil’s realm is too much of a risk right now.”

  It was Mirien’s turn to fall silent. Looked at from his angle, what Kyran said made sense. She glanced at the sleeping form of the wolven. Yet there was one other possibility that Kyran had not mentioned—that of abandoning their injured companion.

  If this was a Brotherhood party, there would have been no question of the necessity of doing so. Sacrificing the one for the many was something the Brotherhood had learned to do from brutal experience.

  But it seemed Kyran did not think that way. Not yet at least. A trifle idealistic, if admirable. But he will in time, Mirien thought sadly. The Game did not allow for such moral luxuries.

  ✽✽✽

  Kyran studied Mirien as she digested his words. The discussion with the whiesper had been illuminating. Her knowledge of both the gods and the surrounding terrain was much greater than his own, and it had become clear to Kyran that he needed her help.

  It had also occurred to him that until he found a way to mask the party’s divine signatures, there was no way he could head into any domain—Xetil’s or Balkar’s. Which left only the option of heading into Crotana and meeting Iyra’s representative. But he could not tell the whiesper that.

  Eventually, the elven woman said, “I take it you intend for us to camp here until your companion is fully healed?”

  “I do,” he replied.

  Mirien nodded, unsurprised. “And then?”

  “And then I will head eastwards with you to the Brotherhood,” he said, his face expressionless as he lied. Across their bond, he felt Aiken stir unhappily at his deception.

  “It is necessary, brother,” he replied to the bear. “We have to secure her aid. I fear if I tell her the truth, she may refuse to help us.”

  Mirien’s eyes widened, and her lips turned upwards in gratitude. “Thank you, Kyran. You will not regret this decision, I promise.”

  Kyran ducked his head to hide his pained expression. His dishonesty had left a sour taste in his mouth. But the lie is necessary, he told himself.

  Smoothing his expression, he looked up again. “Tell me how you managed the crossing from Crotana, and perhaps together we can figure out a way back over the mountain…”

  ✽✽✽

  Sara was ready.

  Her tent and belongings had been packed and her horse brought to her. The paladins bustled about, dismantling the camp. Over the weeks in which they had been encamped in Crota, the site had expanded considerably, with layers of fortifications and defences added every day. The commander had insisted. The men, he had said, could not be left idle, especially in a haunted city.

  Yet despite the commander’s fears—and her own, Sara admitted—the undead had not shown themselves. The First had assured her they would be left undisturbed as long as they did not venture into the citadel itself, yet Sara had been unconvinced.

  But finally, it is time to leave the undead behind, she thought, looking down at the tracking crystal in her hand. It had pulsed weakly to life yesterday, beckoning her south. To where exactly, she was not sure, but somewhere in southern Crotana, Kyran had surfaced from the labyrinth. And she would find him, and then...well, that was the question, wasn’t it?

  What would she do when she found him? A flutter of unease accompanied the thought. I have my orders, she reminded herself.

  At a cry of alarm, Sara jerked her head upwards. The paladins around her dropp
ed the packs they were lifting and grabbed for their weapons. Shouted commands filled the air as the sergeants called the company to order and prepared for battle.

  What is going on? wondered Sara, nervously fingering the reins of her horse. A young paladin ran up to her. “Milady, come this way. The commander wants you!”

  “What’s happening?” she called after him, but it was too late. The soldier had already dashed off. Swearing under her breath, Sara abandoned her horse and hurried through the camp after him. As she ran, a blue dome closed over the camp. What is that? Sara skidded to a halt and stared up at the shimmering haze of blue.

  “Hurry, milady,” the paladin shouted from ahead. Pulling her gaze away from the blue barrier, Sara took off running again.

  Ruben was perched on top of the half-dismantled fortifications on the camp’s northern perimeter and staring at something out of her sight. Breathlessly, she ground to a halt behind him.

  “Commander,” she called up to him. “What’s going on? And what is that?” she asked, pointing at the blue dome over them.

  Commander Ruben glanced at her and then up at the dome. His face expressionless, he said, “You tell me, milady.”

  Sara blushed. Of course. She had the ability to divine what the barrier was on her own. Though she had spent months on this world and the spells’ weaves had been ingrained in her mind, she sometimes forgot her ‘new’ abilities—as she still thought of them. And it had taken the commander to remind her. Ignoring her embarrassment, she probed the barrier with insight.

  This is a rank 5 containment field and requires an effective magical or psi skill of 150 to overcome.

  “It’s a containment field,” she said.

  The commander nodded as if it was what he had expected. “How strong is the shield, milady?”

  “Master rank.”

  “Damn,” muttered Ruben, his eyes turning distant as his thoughts focused inwards.

  “Commander?” asked Sara.

  Ruben shook himself. “Forgive me, milady.” The commander held out his hand. “Climb up here, if you please.”